


Nothing If Not Observant

by emwebb17



Series: Tumblr Fics [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Trailer Sex, accent kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen seems to have interesting responses to Misha's Russian accent, and Misha is nothing if not observant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing If Not Observant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tumblr prompt from an anon: I would really love one where Misha finds out that when he's speaking with his russian accent and being kinda dominant and badass is one of Jensen's biggest kinks, even though he don't really want to admit it because he feels embarrassed or whatever. And then Misha, as the little shit that he is, teases him with the accent when no one else can hear him (maybe while filming or in some other public place) and then Jensen finally can't take it anymore when they get home :3
> 
> Not exactly the same, but close enough I guess.

Jensen was laughing so hard Misha could barely keep his grip on his slippery, sweat-covered skin.  Jensen was on his back, but his hips were canted to the left and Misha had one of his legs up and hooked over his shoulder as he knelt on the mattress and fucked him—apparently silly.

“Why are you laughing?” Misha asked in his best Indian accent.  “Dis is very serious business.”

Jensen covered his eyes with one hand and gasped for air around his laughter.  Misha leaned forward and laid into him, balls smacking playfully against his ass.

“Do not interrupt my flow,” he continued his impression.  “Dis requires concentration.”

Jensen was having a fit and kept trying to tell him to shut-up, but couldn’t do it because of the giggles that were making him unintelligible.  Misha pulled the leg off his shoulder and pulled out so he could turn him over.  He used both hands to spread Jensen’s ass and was hard enough that he didn’t need to use his hand to guide his cock back inside Jensen’s body.  Jensen’s laughter ceased for a moment as he hissed and clawed at the sheets when he was entered.

“Look at dis,” Misha said, switching to Indian-Russian.  “It’s not the sex, is it?”

Jensen sniggered as he buried his face in his arms on the mattress.

“It’s the penetration.  That is a freaky kink, my friend,” he said, laying the accent on extra thick.

Jensen laughed and then gasped when Misha popped the head of his cock out and then quickly pushed it back in.  He did it a second time just because the catch of Jensen’s rim on his cockhead felt so good.  And it also made Jensen make _that_ sound again.

“The Indian-Russian king is pleased,” Misha said, sliding in to the hilt and gripping Jensen’s hips in both hands.

“Get a lot practice with those goat-sheep?” Jensen asked, wiggling his ass and biting his lip.

Misha reached forward and grabbed a handful of Jensen’s hair.  He gasp-groaned at the sensation and Misha smiled, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

“Careful, leetle boy,” he said, slipping into full Russian.  “I no liek vhen you get insolent.”

He felt Jensen’s body tighten and his laughter had turned into moans that punched out of his lax, panting mouth with each quick strike to his prostate.  Misha leaned forward more and shoved Jensen’s face down into the mattress; his hands clenched the sheets.

“Zhere’s my good boy.  You take it so vell forr me, da?”

Jensen keened and screwed his eyes shut.

“So good, preety.  So fucking open and vet forr me.  Just forr me.”

Misha really started to lay into him.  The trailer filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and flesh smacking flesh.  And Jensen wasn’t even trying to control his yelping moans anymore.  Anyone who happened to pass by the trailer close enough could probably hear him.

Misha grabbed Jensen underneath one elbow and pulled the arm back as he pushed down on his head and tightened his grip in his hair.  Jensen full on screamed and Misha grinned manically.

“You like zhis, da?  What zhey call ‘deep deeking?’  Feels good, no, Jenska?”

Jensen’s body suddenly seized up, his inner walls convulsing violently around Misha’s dick, catching him completely off guard.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, dropping the accent and pulling his hands back to hold Jensen’s hips tightly against his pelvis as he was surprised by a violent orgasm that made his vision go white.  He leaned back so that he could push his hips forward that much more, doing his best to get as fully and completely buried inside Jensen’s body as possible.  His seed pumped out of him, filling Jensen’s ass, and covering his own member as he moved his hips in little figure eights.

Misha wasn’t sure how long it took to come down from his high, but it was long enough that he was shivering a little from the cooling sweat on his body.  Jensen was slumped on the bed, his eyes closed, mouth slack as he breathed.  Misha felt terrible; he’d always prided himself on taking care of his lovers first.

“Sorry, babe,” Misha said, reaching a hand around Jensen’s waist, not even bothering to pull out.  “But you are fucking amazing, so it’s not my fault—”

Misha cut off as he wrapped his hand around Jensen’s cock—Jensen’s spent, softening cock.  He pulled his hand back and saw that there was indeed come on his fingers, so Jensen hadn’t just gone limp.  He’d had an orgasm.  And Misha was shocked.  He’d _never_ been able to get Jensen off untouched.  And certainly not for lack of trying.  So what had done it this time?

They had been going at it for awhile; according to the clock on the table built into the wall of the trailer the foreplay alone must have lasted forty-five minutes, the fucking another good half hour.  But he and Jensen had tried tantric sex a couple times, succeeded once, and it had still required _something_ on his actual dick for Jensen to come.

He knew Jensen had a kink for being dominated, which admittedly he was trying to cultivate into a full blown submissive persona in the bedroom, but he’d never gotten off on it before.  Even the time he’d had Jensen bound and begging—he’d still had to give him a helping hand.

It couldn’t have been the dirty talk.  Jensen was a slut for it, but he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.  Perhaps it was the way he said it?  He’d been doing accents to get Jensen laughing, but there had been a shift.  Jensen had stopped laughing at one point and started whimpering and mewling like a bitch in heat.  He’d just chalked it up to his masterful technique, but he’d also—a light bulb went off over Misha’s head.  He’d switched to his full on, authentic Russian accent.  He knew Jensen had a thing for that particular accent, his pupils often dilating just a little as he licked his lips when he heard it.  But was it really enough to push him over the edge like that?  Maybe when combined with a little domineering bad-assery?  Hunh.  That was an interesting tidbit of knowledge about Jensen.

“Mish.”

“Mm?”  Misha was pulled out his thoughts by Jensen’s voice.  He was looking over his shoulder at him expectantly and Misha realized he was completely soft, but still inside him.

“Oh, sorry.”

Misha pulled out easily and lay down on his side beside Jensen as he turned to face him.

Jensen shrugged a shoulder.  “No, problem.  I like it when—”

He cut off abruptly and Misha rubbed a hand on his arm.  Jensen didn’t like to admit out loud what he liked during sex.  Well, not before or after; during he could be quite vocal about his desires.

He cleared his throat.  “What time is it?” he asked instead.

Misha leaned forward to look at the clock again and smiled when he felt Jensen’s lips press lightly to his throat.

“It’s almost 4:30.”

Jensen groaned.  “Damn.  I have to get up now if I’m going to make it to wardrobe on time.”

Misha grinned.  “But, this should be a fun scene, right?”

“Oh, a blast.  Long waits and then struggling to deliver a line quickly while five handlers try to keep five animals on their marks.”

Misha brushed a hand through Jensen’s damp hair.  “It’s a funny scene though.”

“Yeah.  You know, the fans are either going to love it or say that this is the episode where _Supernatural_ actually jumped the damn shark.”

Misha chuckled.  “Well, even if they hate it the fans would never say it to you.”  He nudged Jensen’s forehead with his pointer finger.  “And you don’t go on the Internet, so you’ll never know.”

“True points all.”  He closed his eyes and made a whining noise.  Then opened them with a frown.  “I really have to get out of bed now.”

“Okay.”

They kissed and then Jensen forced himself to roll out of bed before they turned it into more than just a kiss.

“So, are you going home?” Jensen asked from inside the tiny bathroom.

“Nah.  I think I’ll stick around.”

Jensen stuck his head out to look at him with a smile on his lips.  “Yeah?”

Misha shrugged.  “Sure.  I like watching you work.”

Jensen grinned and ducked back into the bathroom.  Misha’s smile turned slowly wicked as his brain whirred.  Yeah, he would stick around.

 

***

 

“Cut!  Hold on,” the director called out as the squirrel was startled and ran across the set to its handler.

“Sorry,” the handler called out, walking back to settle the squirrel on his mark.

Misha stood behind Brad Creaser to make sure he stayed out of the shot as he watched Jensen as Dean dealing with a bunch of sassy, wisecracking animals.  Fortunately there wasn’t much to the scene reset so they would be able to start again soon.  Beside him, Misha heard the set dresser groaning and doing a little dance.

“You okay, Robin?” Misha asked.

“Yeah.  I just—I really gotta pee!”

Misha laughed.  “So go.”

“I can’t.  I gotta read the lines for the animals so Jensen knows when to talk.”

“Ah.”  Misha saw the perfect opportunity to be a nuisance.  “I can do it.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just reading the lines on cue, right?  I can do that.  Go use the bathroom.”

“Oh!  Thank you so much!”

Robin thrust the script pages into his hand and darted off the set.

“Okay, set?” the director called out.

There were thumbs up and voiced confirmations from various crew members around the set.

“Okay, rolling…”  The filming alarm rang.  “And…action!”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed.  “That really is you talking it, ain’t it?” he asked a German Shepherd.

“Yah, stoopid.  We’ve been saying zat all night,” Misha replied in a German accent.

Some of the crew sniggered, but Jensen, like a fucking pro, didn’t react.

“Well excuse me for thinking I might be hallucinating.  It’s not exactly commonplace to have a chat with Fido.”

“My name is Franz.  Schwachkopf,” Misha added.

Some of the crew laughed at the word even if they didn’t know what it meant and some just gave him funny looks.  Jensen didn’t react.

“And I suppose you’re the one who’s been calling for help?” Dean asked of a pure white Persian cat with a pink bow in, as it turned out, _his_ hair.

“Of course it waz me,” Misha replied, going for a hoity-toity French accent since he wasn’t sure what ancient Persians used to sound like.  “I am a beau-ti-ful pussy in distress.  I cannot leek myself.”

Muffled giggles erupted from the crew and a corner of Jensen’s mouth twitched, but it could just as easily be interpreted as annoyance at what the cat’s line was really supposed to be.

“Well, to be honest,” Dean said testily, “I don’t know anything about what’s causing this.”

Misha looked at the script.  All it said was, “Squirrel goes on tirade (TBD) while Dean makes faces.”

 _Okay then_ , Misha thought.  _Time for an experiment._

He slipped easily into his Russian accent.

“Why it no surprise me zat Amerikan not know vhat goes on?”

Jensen’s eyes widened, just slightly.

“Ve do vhat can make you do right.  But ees hard, no?  Maybe ve make you understand.”

Jensen was doing some pretty good Dean faces.

“Da, leetle boy?”

Jensen’s eyes darted away from where his eye line should be, but he managed to get them under control before he actually looked at Misha.  He licked his lips.

“Mm, maybe need bend over knee—spank zat vhite Amerikan ass unteel it ees red liek flag.”

The crew was bent over in stifled hysterics, but Jensen, poor Jensen…Misha could see the way he kept shifting his weight.  And because he was intimately familiar with it, he could see the line of Jensen’s growing erection flopping back and forth in the crotch of his jeans.

 _Bad day to go commando, babe_ , Misha thought pitilessly.

“Or maybe zat no work for punishment.  Maybe you liek, da?  Maybe ve make knees red instead.  Put zhose Commie-sucking lips to good use.”

Everyone was laughing so hard now it would be nearly impossible to edit it out during post.  The director looked like he was going to call cut, so Misha decided to get in one last dig—enjoying the way Jensen’s hand, and for no discernable reason that Dean’s should, had begun to stroke back and forth on the railing he stood near.

“Vhat you say?  Vould you liek kielbasa for lunch today?  Dean-sha?”

Jensen cracked.

He turned away from the crew as everyone burst out laughing past the point of no return.  Misha kept his eyes on Jensen and watched him, as discreetly as he could, adjust and push down on his fat, hard cock.  Misha bit his lip and was half-hard himself.  A riled up, aroused Jensen was a beautiful sight to behold.

“Cut, cut!” the director yelled.  He wiped a tear from his eye.  “Okay, let’s reset one more time.”

Something nudged Misha’s side and he turned to see Robin had returned from the restroom.  She was giving him a playful stink eye.

“You are so bad,” she said.  “You two need to keep your kinks off set.”

Misha’s eyes widened in mock surprise, though maybe some of it was real.  “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, please.  Everyone could see poor Jensen was popping a chubby for you.  Keep it in the trailer, weirdos.”

Misha laughed a little nervously and then glanced at Jensen.  He had mostly shaken off Misha’s effect and was listening to the bird handler about what not to do with his hands this time.  The bird had been quite antsy in the background of the last take.  Misha handed the script back to Robin and took his leave.  He didn’t want to cause anymore delays.  And he really didn’t want to think about how careless they were getting on set lately.  It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know…but…it wasn’t something they should be advertising.

Then Misha grinned.  It had been worth it though.

 

***

 

Misha licked his thumb and turned another page in the GQ magazine he wasn’t really reading.  He couldn’t believe Jensen read this crap.  Well, actually he could believe it.  It wasn’t just Danneel who was trendy and fashion forward.  They really were a good match.

 The trailer door opened with a soft click and Misha tossed the magazine aside and scooted off the bed like a kid on Christmas morning.  He greeted Jensen with grabby hands and a tongue-filled kiss before he’d even gotten the door all the way shut.

“Jesus,” he sputtered around the kiss.  “Like we haven’t already fucked twice today.”

“Hmm, too much for you, old man?”

“Who you calling old, Mr. Less Than A Year Away From Forty?”

He gave Misha’s ass a firm smack that made him jump and his dick twitch in his pants.  And that had become inconvenient.  Jensen was slowly developing a Pavlovian response in him.  Before long he would be one public ass slap away from coming in his pants.  Jensen smirked knowingly at him.  Well.  He knew how to fight fire with fire.

Misha shoved Jensen against the wall, startling him.  “Easy, tigre.  Ve have all night, da?”

Jensen’s eyes immediately darkened.

“Mm, Jenska, you get naked, okay?”

Jensen nodded and leaned forward, capturing his lips.  They kissed awkwardly as they walked toward the end of the trailer with the bed, shedding clothes as they went.  Fortunately there weren’t many layers to get off Jensen as Dean had been shucked in the wardrobe trailer earlier.  Misha felt his legs hit the edge of the bed and he started to turn so he could maneuver Jensen where he wanted him, but the man suddenly shot forward, sending Misha flying back onto the bed.  He bounced a couple of times, eyes wide, as Jensen smiled predatorily and crawled onto the bed.

“So, my leetle boy wants to play beeg boy tonight.  I liek.”

Jensen smiled and moved closer, his crawling legs straddled one of Misha’s, his cock so big and long it bumped into Misha’s knee.  Misha sat up and put a hand in Jensen’s hair.

“We can play.”  He tightened his grip and yanked Jensen’s head back.  Jensen gasped in ecstasy.  “Just don’t forgeet who ees in charge.  ты понимаешь? (Do you understand?)

Jensen nodded and shamelessly rutted against Misha’s shin.  Misha eased his grip and leaned back to lie against the pillows.  Jensen leaned down and began to worship Misha’s body with lips and tongue and occasionally a well placed bite.  Misha hummed his pleasure, voicing his approval as Jensen moved up his body.  Then he felt Jensen begin to push his arms up as he ran his fingers lightly along the skin, eliciting a shiver and raising gooseflesh.

Jensen kissed him hard as he laced their fingers above their heads.  Then he pulled back and whispered, “May I?”

Misha nodded his consent having lost his words somewhere around the time Jensen had flicked his left nipple into an oversensitive, hard nub with the tip of his tongue.  It was the short work of a minute and Misha found his arms crossed and bound at the wrist to the fastener they had installed in the wall for just such occasions.  In theory Misha was the one who was supposed to be steering this evening’s activities, but this would make it more challenging and fun.  Without the use of his hands, he would really see if he could get Jensen to come just from a filth-talking Russian accent.

Jensen kissed his way back down Misha’s body and he settled more comfortably on the bed, closing his eyes.

“Oh, zhis ees good, Jenska.  I liek vhen you have fun too.”

“Mmm,” Jensen replied, lips closed around a hip bone.

“Oh, yessss.  Put mouzh on me.  Put those fucking lips on me…” Misha slipped a little at his own game.  But Jensen’s mouth really was talented.  The lips disappeared and Misha waited with trembling anticipation for them to return, his cock spurting precome in excitement.

Misha’s eyes flew open when he heard a loud sticky, tearing sound.  He looked at Jensen who held a roll of duct tape in one hand, the other holding out a strip of the tape to his mouth so he could bite a break into it with his teeth.

“W-wait a minute!” Misha said, trying to pull his arms down, momentarily forgetting he was tied up.

Jensen ripped the tape piece off and leaned down over Misha.  He gave his protesting lips a sweet kiss.

“Sorry, baby.  But we’re putting that silver tongue away tonight.”

“No, wait, Jen—!”

Jensen stuck the tape over Misha’s mouth, quite effectively shutting him up.  Misha watched with wild, annoyed eyes as Jensen chuckled darkly and moved down between Misha’s legs.  He kissed the cockhead, lapping up another blurt of precome.  Then he kissed and licked a trail down the shaft, over Misha’s balls, and onto his perineum.  Misha pulled at his restraints and shouted ineffectively through the tape.  Jensen raised his eyes to look at him as he hooked one leg over his shoulder.  Misha’s eyes widened at the first swipe of a tongue over his clenching hole.  This was very rarely explored territory for them.

He cursed behind the tape and glared at Jensen.  He smiled back.

“I’m gonna see how difficult it really is to penetrate the Russian Front.”

Jensen gave him a smirk and a wink and dipped his head.  Misha moaned and succumbed.


End file.
